Obscura
by spitfire511
Summary: CHAPTER 7 UP...Kurtis Trent's quest to end the Cabal and their attempts at reviving the Nephilim race, begining with our first encounter with him in Cafe Metro...additional characters and events to come...
1. Cafe Metro

**A/N: **Okay, here's another story. I sat down to write another chapter of my other story, _Shield and Sword_, but this is what came out. I know well my muse well enough to realize i have to at leastget this up before i can continue to work on the other one (don't worry, i'll still work on that one too!)

So this is a fiction about Kurtis's expedition, beginning with when we first see him at the Cafe Metro. Although, there will be several twists and additions to what was originally in the game. It will probably be shorter, but it will lead to a sequel, which i already have begun to think about!

so please read, enjoy, and review, as always! constructive criticism is always appreciated!

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**Obscura**

**Cafe Metro, Paris**

He watched the woman walk into the café. To call her attractive would be an understatement. She was, undeniably, gorgeous. Her long brown hair was plaited, and despite her overall tired and unkempt condition, she walked with an air of authority and dignity. He watched her from his newspaper, recognizing her as a woman that, if the circumstances where different; if he'd not just recently learnt of his father's murder, of the cabal's renewed vigor to resurrect the Nephilim race. If he was not the sole survivor of the Lux Veritatis, the only one left to fight against the unknown evils of the world, then indeed he would have had his fun with her. But, with a sigh of acceptance, he returned to his newspaper and waved the woman away when she came to talk with him without the single exchange of a clear word. He knew he would probably forget about her in a few hours, hopefully by then fully absorbed in his vengeance, but for the brief moments that she was in the café, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering over to her conversation with Pierre, the bartender, (he sighed as he realized how grim his situation was that he was, in fact, on a first name basis with the bartender).

Relinquishing the research on the article he was reading, nothing interesting about yet another Monstrum murder, he allowed himself to eavesdrop on the conversation the two were having. He didn't hear much; a few snips of "Bouchard" and "Le Serpent Rouge" caught his attention, but failed to keep it long as his eyes wandered back to the newspaper.

He scanned the article once again, before snapping to attention. Staring back at him was a picture of the woman, taken some years earlier, at some archaeologist function. The picture was clean, and he realized something was remarkably different between the women, but it was undeniably the same person. _She has something to do with the Monstrum. She's the best lead I've got._ Tipping Pierre generously, he practically ran out of the café, starting his bike and driving swiftly to a vantage point along the Seine he knew well, offering spectacular views of Le Serpent Rouge and the surrounding rue.

---

_Where the hell is she?_ He thought, his eleventh cigarette rapidly burning, simultaneously threatening and taunting him to withdraw the last cigarette in the pack. He reluctantly relinquished only after the cigarette butt slightly singed the tips of his fingers. Throwing the terminated end into the Seine, he withdrew his last cigarette, reaching into his pocket to extract a lighter and proceeded in lighting the tobacco. He succeeded in lighting the cigarette, and took a few deep drags, watching, as he did so, as orange-red flames began to build from inside a sewage pipe beneath the buildings opposite the river. Concealing whatever surprise or awe he may have had, he sat silently as that woman ran from the flames, running just fast enough to succeed in diving from the pipe mere moments before the flames, the effects of the fire leaving her clothes smoking. Content with the spectacle, he flicked his cigarette absent-mindedly into the river; _she is definitely involved, somehow. _As he began to walk away, he realized he'd just thrown his last cigarette into the River, and no longer had any cigarettes or cash to purchase new ones. _Oh well, I should quit anyways. Smoking is bad for your health._

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**A/N:**Okay, it's short i know, but this will overall be a shorter piece. I'm trying to write with a distinctly different style, incorporating more ambiguity and description. at any rate, let me know what you think of it! 

Thanks!


	2. Somewhere in Paris

**OBSCURA  
****Somewhere in Paris**

"Esteemed Cabal Members," Eckhardt glanced around the room, _well, Cabal members, yes, but not necessarily 'esteemed'._ He looked at each one of them in turn. _Muller has done nothing aside from ride the glory of his plant serums, Boaz has failed to create a proper proto several times, resulting only in that disgraceful pet (she better have killed it already). Karel, admittedly, has contributed significantly, financing the project as well as other substantiations. And then there is his whore. "_The hour of your reward grows ever closer" Eckhardt looked at the woman, a feeling of utter hatred, and uncontrollable jealousy (towards Karel) stemmed from the lust he felt for her. Her piercing gray eyes, classic nose, and ample lips marked her with undeniable beauty, earning her the attention of members of both sexes. _And Karel gets her, bastard. _Karel worked for him, but the rushed and hurried process of their purpose left him with little time for such frivolity.

"As you know, we already posses three of the Obscura Paintings." He watched in stifled horror as the woman whispered into Karel's ear, visibly distracting him from Eckhardt. The woman wasn't truly a member of the Cabal, her blood too freshly incorporated into the organization for membership. But in some way she had wooed Karel, and rarely would he go without her by his side, not even the privy Cabal meetings were without her presence. She was not evenly placed around the table, as the other members were seated, instead she was positioned directly aside Karel, her chair no where near as elaborate as the other member's, but her presence no less noticed. She made eye contact with Eckhardt as he stared at her, her steely gray eyes piercing through his glasses. As if to vex him, she trailed her hand intimately across Karel's chest. Eckhardt averted his eyes.

"Our contact Professor Von Croy located the fourth one for us here in Paris. When we have this, we will reassemble in Prague." He moved his eyes to each of the members, his temper rising when Karel's were absent, focusing on the words _she_ whispered in his ear. Eckhardt shook his head. He despised this woman. And yet Karel was too integral to the operation to defy him. But Eckhardt's time will come. And then he will dispose of this woman, who, in contrast to his 500 years of imprisonment, has contributed so little to the cause. And that time was so near.

"It is time to reawaken THE SLEEPER. Hopefully we will be more successful this time." Boaz's guilty expression distracted Eckhardt and Karel. _So he is paying attention, despite that incompetent whore at his side._ "We are also closer to the fifth and last Obscura Painting in Prague. We will gather at the Strahov." Eckhardt glanced maliciously one last time at the woman. He didn't trust her, but could tell she shared the same silent revelry that they were closer to completing their operation. But not until he retrieved that last painting.

"Gunderson."

"Master Eckhardt" _At least some of my subordinates maintain respect._

"Dispatch your team for the fourth painting."

"Immediately."

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**A/N:**Thanks to everyone who's read it and reviewed... 

in order to change it alittle, i added a new character (i'm trying to avoid makingthe same mistake i made in my other fic about not introducing the OC's early enough, so hopefully everyone will apporve) hopefully everyone will still enjoy reading!

thanks, as always, and please review! (if i dont get any reviews (even negative ones) then i'll think no one is reading...and if no one is reading, whats the use in writing?) SO please, please, please review!

and...Happy New Year!


	3. Louvre

**Louvre, Paris**

He coughed a few times, the dust from the minor explosion into the restrooms becoming threateningly thick. He hurried into the hall, finding himself in an impressive gallery. He hoped to find that woman before Gunderson did. He wanted to talk with her: clearly they had similar interest in the painting, and he was in for all the help he could get.

He walked through the gallery with care, knowing the tactics of his former employer well enough to understand that not even the priceless art and antiquities in the gallery could save him from the Mag Vega of the mercenaries. His chirugai hung limply from his belt, his Boran X hung in his shoulder holster, but he knew Gunderson well enough to understand that his mercenaries pulled the trigger before they aimed, realizing he would have plenty of time to react if under attack. He walked into the gallery, almost immediately regretting his failure to check the room first as he felt the cold barrel of a desert ranger at the back of his neck. _So she found me first._

For a moment no word was spoken until he felt hot breath at his neck, smooth lips near his ear whispering in a voice just audible enough to discern distinction in speech. He slowly reached for his gun in his holster, before being silenced by the woman

"Don't move." The voice of a woman said. He could tell by the accent it wasn't the woman from Café Metro; this woman spoke in an American accent, with an ever so faint hint of something else…_Russian, maybe?_ He felt her hand move slowly down his abdomen, trailing across his belts as her hand found his Chirugai, unclipping it and throwing it to the floor, a firm, booted foot over it before he could react. _So she knows what it is? _The hand traced up his torso and across his chest, obviously feeling his muscles as the hand moved, teasingly sexual, to his holster, removing his gun and leaving him slightly hot from the contact. "Ah, the notorious Kurtis Trent, last of the Lux Veritatis. Ha, my _master_ would be so pleased." She said, but he couldn't tell if the emphasis on "master" was sarcasm or incredible reverence.

"Listen, I haven't much time. In the next gallery there is a woman, Lara Croft. She has taken the painting, which I believe is in your best interest to retrieve. She is heavily armed, and rather dangerous if you believe the press these days. Take it from her, but do not kill her. I have a feeling I'll need you two to work together, but not just yet. Do you understand?" He didn't move.

"Good. Now, turn around…slowly… I want to see your face…" he did as instructed, turning to face a figure clad in the shadow of the corner, the only thing visible being the sensual lips that had breathily whispered in his ear, and piercing gray eyes which now looked him over. He watched as a smile danced playfully across the woman's lips. "Pleasure." She said, and he admittedly wasn't sure if she was referring to his acquaintance or his person. "Here." She handed him his gun back, and kicked his glaive to him, which he signaled so it flew up into the air and to his hand, as he stared puzzled as to why she would give him his weapons, she answered his unspoken question "_you_ can't afford the sound of a bullet. Or a thudding body to a floor. Are you familiar with the Strahov Fortress in Prague?"

He nodded.

"Good. That's where you're headed. That's were the Cabal's main base of operations is located."

He chanced a word. "Why should I trust you?"… Or five.

"Don't trust me, Mr. Trent, just remember, _I'm on your side._" The heavy footsteps of a mercenary echoed through the halls, distracting her attention briefly. She turned back to him, the smile gone, "Now, _run." _she whispered. He turned back around, glancing back at her before turning to face his destination, knowing full well her gun was still trained on him, but he began to run only when the sound of a bullet whizzing past his head to embed itself in the door in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder to see that the woman was now firing at him, and sped on into the adjacent gallery.

He saw Lara Croft before she saw him. He watched her for a moment before unleashing his Chirugai so it confused the woman as to his location. Still feeling hot, and a bit bothered, from his encounter in the previous room, he smirked as he watched Lara Croft. _Might as well have some fun._

_----_

His eyes fluttered open, a fierce headache resounding within his skull. He stood up slowly, the effects of the impact slowly wearing off. He looked over his shoulder to see Lara lying on her back beside him. _I'll need you two to work together, but not just yet._ He smirked as he thought of that other woman before hastily getting up and walking out of the alley, not glancing back. _Until then, Lara Croft._

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**A/N:** hehe, i took the liberty of explaining why KT acted that way in that very memorable cutscene from AoD...

Thanks to everyone who's read, and keep on reviewing, please, and i'll reply, i promise!

thanks again!


	4. Strahov

_A/N: REPOSTED...sorry, in my excitement over having written it so quickly, i left a part out which makes more sense..._**

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**Strahov, Prague**

He'd been to Prague too many times to count; it seemed to be a hotspot for both mercenary dealings and Lux Veritatis business. His favored, and most remembered visit, was the time he'd visited the Elder Vasiley at his art dealership, with his father. The thought of visiting the place to get information was discouraging, his surprise that Vasiley was the last Lux to be killed hindered only by the fear that the location would remind him too much of his own father's demise. He remembered his father telling him once that Vasiley had, safely stored within his possession, the engraving to one of the Obscura paintings. _And the actual painting still rests beneath the Strahov. Well, somewhere. And the only way to find it is with the engraving. _He side, a deep, exhausted sigh. _Best let Croft find the engraving then._

He knew he was there several hours ahead of her. He'd left Paris as soon as he could get on his bike after regaining conscience outside the Louvre. And he knew it was a lot easier for him to pass through border control than Croft, she being a wanted woman and all. _I've got some time to kill. Or, time will kill me._ He looked around the street. He didn't know much Czech, but he could speak enough German to read a sign for a brothel-like operation. _Tempting…_he shook his head. He had time enough, but he wanted to stay on task, _No time for distractions._ And a certain face meandered into his mind as he stared at a watched an apprehensive little mouse of a man walk up to the door and in. He smirked at the face inside his head. He didn't even know if it was a real face, it was simply what his mind had pieced together to fill the void around those sensual lips and piercing gray eyes…

The cold shook him. He didn't know how long he'd been standing there, staring absentmindedly into the space that was Prague. Shaking slightly with the falling snow, he got back on his bike. _I'll stop for coffee if I see a place._

But he didn't.

Instead, he rode the old blue motorcycle directly to the Strahov. He stared at the massive structure for a moment, _built by King Vladislav I of Bohemia in 1140 A.D., and originally known as the Venue of Diets. In 1258 A.D., a fire ravaged the building and it was completely destroyed. After it was rebuilt, it was named the Strahov, after the Czech word 'strahovat,' which means to guard. The Strahov became a monastery when the Bishop of Olomouc, Jindrich Zdik, founded an order of Premonstrates there. The Bishop had become acquainted with the order on his pilgrimage to Palestine._ He recalled on the old Lux Veritatis lesson like a textbook, _of course this is where the Cabal have been. What better place than a former monastery._ He chuckled in spite of himself, choosing to ignore the fact that this new revelation had come only after countless deaths occurred, including that of his own father.

He parked his bike in the recesses of a shadow from a building near the Strahov. He didn't really have a plan about what to do next, but he was never exactly one to create plans. He wasn't really the shoot-first-ask-questions-later type either. Or maybe he was? He'd never really thought about it.

He hid behind an abandoned crate across from the entrance to the Strahov. He needed to find a way in, but he knew that entering through the main door would probably not be a great idea. _Well, there aren't any other options now, are there. _Well, he might have to go in through the loading docks, but he sure as hell wasn't going to make a big deal about it.

He pushed the main door open, finding himself in a high-ceilinged warehouse with a few crates. Hearing footsteps, he quickly ducked behind one of the crates, hugging the wall and peeking around the corner to see one guard, lazily walking away from him. He smirked.

Carefully walking in a stealth position, he walked behind the guard, who was caught unawares. With a deft movement, the neck snapped and the guard dropped to the floor. He dragged the body back behind the crate, inspecting it for any useful items. He smirked when he found the ID access card, his fingers feeling the material of the suit. _Maybe I should do some exploring._

He disposed of the body in one of the empty crates. Securing the helmet snugly over his head, he grabbed the Mag Vega as an afterthought. _If I'm trying not to get noticed, I'll have to do this right._

The motored door slid up between the two partitions of the warehouse. There were three, maybe four guards in this area, but he knew they wouldn't threaten him. He walked through.

The guards barely noticed him, but when they did, it was simply to nod in his direction or open the next partition for him. _You can always count on The Agency to hire half-wits for these kinds of jobs._ The ID card successfully disabled the machine guns mounted high above the loading docks, and he was able to slip into the next room undetected, or at least undetected as a threat. Through a series of passages, and a disabled hallway riddled with traps, he found himself at a control-type room, adjacent to a lounge for the other Agency members. He knew as he walked in that although there were others present, he was a familiar sight and no threat.

He looked at the controls, equipped with a detailed map of the fortress. He didn't know where he wanted to go, but realized there was only one option, through an area labeled "Biodome" he grunted. _Here goes nothing. _

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**A/n: Okay, i was inspired to update so quickly. PLEAS****E PLEASE PLEASE keep reading and reviewing, and i promise i'll reply!**

**thanks to everyone!**


	5. BioResearch Facility

**Bio-Research Facility, Strahov**

Using his pass card, he entered the biodome, and, still clad in the Agency standard uniform, he met no trouble.

The bio-research facility was laden with awkward looking plants, _some sort of genetic mutilation, _he thought as he walked carefully amongst some fierce-looking shrubbery. Within the first Greenhouse a short, round man groomed some plants, jumping at the noise of his footsteps, but otherwise he hardly acknowledged him.

He continued into the next greenhouse. Several tank-like apparatuses lined a platform in the center of the room, a series of genetically manipulated carcasses occupying them. He noticed two peculiar looking specimen in the final tanks, disturbing creatures really. He shrugged them off and hoped he didn't have to deal with any such mutations, _at least not today._

He walked up the stairs to the door on the opposite end of the room, it opened without flaw due to some pressure-sensitive tile in the floor, he imagined.

He walked forward onto a catwalk situated high in a multi-level greenhouse. There were a few guards littered about on various other catwalks, all lower within the structure; he was confident that they had no vantage point from which they could view him. He looked down at some vicious looking plants before noticing a computer-system sitting vacant on an empty platform adjacent to the catwalk. Quickly enough as a man with a purpose, yet slowly enough so not to attract unwanted attention, he moved to the desk. He booted the system and shortly thereafter uncovered a more detailed map of the Strahov than that found in the preceding area.

Committing the map to memory, he noticed immediately where the final periapt shard would be, the lower regions where Eckhardt's lab could be found. He skimmed the rest of the map, noticing also where the main power was located and where the fifth painting presumably rested.

He jumped when he heard the safety of a gun click off by his ear. _Nice job. _A normal person's heart would have accelerated, adrenaline pumping through the veins, but he clearly wasn't normal, his heart-rate ridiculously even as the gun pushed against his ear and urged him to stand up. He obliged, simultaneously trying to consider his situation and the best means of his escape.

Suddenly, the lights in the bio-dome flickered before extinguishing, the computer screen in front of him dying as the power was, presumably, shut down. Within seconds the generators kicked on, but it had provided enough of a distraction for him to turn around, knocking the gun out of the assailant's hand before using his muscles to send a surprisingly small frame against the railing. Given the circumstances, it would have been wise for him to throw the offending body over the rail, but there was something about the feminine grunt that changed his mind; instead, he ran to the door on the opposite side of the catwalk, through the door, down the stairs. Had he looked back, he would have seen the body stir, the lithe figure of a trim woman standing up, her light brown hair haphazardly framing her face as her hands rubbed the side of her head and she simultaneously sheathed her gun beneath her jacket. Had he looked back, he may have seen her large, steely-gray eyes narrow after his fleeing body. But he didn't.

Instead he ran down several flights of stairs until, confident that he was not being pursued, he slowed down. He entered a corridor apparently adjacent to the bio-research dome he was previously in, but hearing encroaching footsteps he ducked into a small storage room. He analyzed the situation as he shed the agency uniform._ They know there's an intruder now; no use running around in this piece of shit anyways Croft must have shut off the power_…._I wonder who that was? _His thoughts trailed briefly to the figure he'd disarmed a few moments earlier before he heard deep voices speaking in a Czech-German fusion.

"_The power was deactivated in the Control Room by sector A. There is an intruder."  
_"_What sectors were affected?"  
_"_All of them, but the generators have restored power to the majority of Sector B."  
_"_And the Maximum Containment Area?"  
_"_The power was restored to Sectors E and F, but not soon enough. There's damage, and Boaz's poodle is running loose."_

He listened as the voices faded. He didn't know what 'Boaz's poodle' was, and he had no intention of finding out if it could be avoided. _So Croft is in. Let's make sure she doesn't cause any more damage until we get the power back on._ He watched the airlocks opposite the storage closet, an idea of how to detain her forming in his head. Out of habit, he reached to his pocket for his cigarettes, and grunting a little when he realized he had none left, he returned to watching, waiting in silence.

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**A/N: i know alot of my reviewers, which i am very grateful for, have let me know they want the chapters to be longer...they are a little short, but i'll try to make them longer in the upcoming updates...**

**anyways, thanks to the reviewers (to whom i'm responding via the email/pm configuration is running) and please keep reading!**

**thanks to everyone, and dont forget to review!**


	6. Confrontation

**Confrontation**

He watched from the shadows as she entered the airlock. He emerged swiftly, jamming the doors before she could even react. She only just heard him though, and he watched as she turned to her now-locked entry. He thought he'd let his presence be none.

"You certainly have made a mess of things, haven't you."

"Who for, the stalker who stole my painting? What do you need with the painting?"

_She certainly is feisty._

"Maybe I'll explain later, _Ms._ Croft. But for now I need to go and turn the power back on."

"Leaving me here." It was more of a statement than a question.

"You've caused enough problems over the last two days. Safer for everyone if you stay in one place for a while. You'll be OK in there."

"And this?" She thrust something against the wall; it took him only seconds to know what it was.

"My Periapt Shard! You…"

"Picked if up in the Louvre, yes." _Not the adjective I was going for. _"After you stole MY painting."

"All this can wait. I know where you'll be. Take a breather from damaging things, why dontcha." He saluted her, intending to drive her mad with his habitual farewell. He walked towards the door that he knew from the map would lead him, eventually, to the power supply.

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_Shit. She got out._ He couldn't see her through the glass doors. Expecting the worst, and knowing if she was in there she would most likely be hostile, he withdrew his gun before pressing the button to open the doors.

He walked in, gun raised; slightly confused that she was no where near.

A feminine grunt startled him, and he turned quickly, gun pointed, only to he kicked away by her boot. _Damn._

He watched patiently in what seemed like an extensive moment as she withdrew her own gun and aimed.

He didn't have time to sort the emotions. Mostly he believed she wouldn't shoot at all, but as the safety clicked off he realize she just might. Part of him just assumed to die by her hand than Eckhardt's, brief narcissistic moment influencing his lack of desire to die in such a grotesque fashion. Another Part of him welcomed the end, _after all, what have I left to live for other than justice?_ And still, there was a part of him that refused to die, that he had to fulfill his duty at any cost.

He shut his eyes. It was more of an instinctual gesture, but when he heard the shot fire, he opened them, unsure if he had died instantly---_or maybe she wasn't shooting at me…_he turned, just in time to see one of the mutant-patients from the maximum containment area collapse with a gurgling sound that signified an end to its misery.

He returned to face her, her gun still trained on him.

"Thanks."

"glad you came back to save me stranger."

"Names Kurtis." He held out his hand to make an acquaintance, also serving the purpose to show that he was 'unarmed' and had no ulterior intentions.

"Lara. And this is business." She took his hand in a fluid motion which sent him against the opposite wall. Clearly she hadn't believed his impression of being defenseless.

"I owe you one." He tried in effort to show that he appreciated her earlier action.

"_You_ owe me a painting." She interjected, simultaneously checking his side for any more concealed weapons.

"Sorry. That went AWOL at the Louvre." He noticed how her hands trailed seductively across his chest, and he briefly thought about a similar hand at the Louvre before realizing he'd preformed similar action on Lara. _I've been 'disarmed' twice in the past week. That has to be a new record. Too bad my bed's been cold._

"What brings you here from Paris?" She asked as she unclipped his Chirugai and threw it on the floor, _as though that's going to stop me from using it._ As she asked the question, though, his mind thought back to what the woman in the Louvre had said, 'I'll need you two to work together'. He didn't know if he should trust her, but he recognized there was only one way to find out.

"Eckhardt. We have business that only one of us will walk away from. You?"

"Personal Reasons." _Clearly 'she' never filled Lara in. Guess that's my job._

"Eckhardt plans to use all five Obscura Paintings to revive an ancient evil called The Sleeper and rebreed The Nephilim race." He moved towards her, confident that she wouldn't shoot him. "To do that he collects alchemically transmuted elements from his murder victims' bodies."

"I've seen him at work as the Monstrum. With that _glove._" She violently pushed him away with the barrel of her gun. _So that's her 'personal reason'._

"Eckhardt is the original Black Alchemist." Her gun was beginning to annoy him, make him feel inferior and vulnerable. He twitched his fingers and his Chirugai clamoured to life. "and now he's very close to finding the last painting."

"Does he know where it is?" If the glaive frightened her, she didn't display it. He began encircling her, an effort to intimidate.

"Yes. It's hidden in a Lux Veritatis Vault beneath the Strahov. That painting _must _be destroyed and to do that, I need the Shard you picked up at the Louvre."

"There should be three Periapt Shards." She withdrew the one she had. He did likewise.

"Eckhardt has the last one. If all three shards are united they can destroy him permanently, so he keeps it safe."

"Tell me about the Shards."

"They are ancient weapons of the Lux Veritatis." He twirled the Shard out of habit, before assuming a dagger like grip on it. "Two of them were entrusted to my Father." He paused, realizing he'd dug a hole, and there was only one way to get out. He turned away from her lest he betray any emotion he wanted to keep hidden. "Eckhardt murdered him to stop them from passing into my hands." He shared a more knowledge than he'd been willing to impart, but any betrayal of his feelings was avoided. "He failed."

"So Eckhardt went after your father, and you want revenge."

His weapon flew to his hand "Justice!" She was beginning to get on his nerves, _A little pretentious, aren't we? I've yet to hear your reasons._

"We should work together." She threw him the last shard and holstered her gun, an obvious sign of alliance.

He was a little disbelieving. "You're trusting me?"

"Here." She provided as an answer. "How can they be used to kill Eckhardt?"

"He must be stabbed with all three shards."

She began to encircle him, although intimidation he doubted was her motive; the walk serving instead as a stimulating thinking movement. "We can divide the forces against us if we split up." She pointed at him, "You need the third Shard so you should go after that. I'll find the last painting and destroy it."

He wasn't sure he trusted her with the retrieval and destruction of the painting, '_I'll need you two to work together.'_ "OK." It was his best option to agree. He turned and noticed that she had a map of the Strahov, which he recognized as the engraving from Vasiley's apartment. "Eckhardt guards the Shard in his old alchemy lab in the lower regions. I can find my way there."

"The Engraving shows the Painting hidden in something called the Vault of Trophies. Here." She pointed. "The entrance is underwater." She took his chin with her two fingers, a gesture he recognized as potentially flirtatious, but likewise signifying boastfulness. No problem." She turned and began to walk out, and he watched her rather shapely back depart before he set off to retrieve the last Shard.

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**A/N: **woot, here's a longer one for all of you! yes, i left out the part about the sanitarium, mostly because its objective, we all know what happened there, and i wasn't planning on making in plot changes in that section. so for those of you looking forward to it, i apologize, but i hope you'llstay interested! it's going to get interesting from here!

thanks again to everyone who has read, and please review! (any comments/suggestions/rants/criticism/praise welcome and greatly appreciated!)

Thanks!


	7. Control Room

**Control Room, Strahov**

"How did she get the Engraving and the Map?" Karel asked, genuinely intrigued.

"It doesn't matter." _Karel can be so ignorant sometime. _"We have lost too many men trying to open that damn vault. Perhaps her special talents will help us get what we need." He watched the man depart the airlock. "The male will be coming this way soon. Make the preparations."

"I'll do it." She had been standing in the back, Eckhardt failed to notice her. He noticed her now, however, as she walked up to Karel and put her arm on his shoulder, leaning down and brushing his cheek with her lips. Eckhardt watched in sheer hatred, but he knew that he couldn't touch her as long as Karel was present.

"Perhaps Gunderson is better suited." He tried. She stood up, shaking her head.

"I failed to apprehend him in the Bio-Research Facility, and would like the opportunity to do so now."

Eckhardt wanted to wring her neck and rape her at the same time. _How dare she talk back!_ But Karel nodded his head.

"That's fine. But Gunderson will go too; I don't want this intruder causing you any harm." Eckhardt stared in disbelief at Karel's words, reacting too late to prevent the whore from leaving the room.

"There's no danger she can destroy the last painting?" Karel distracted Eckhardt's violent thoughts.

"We won't allow her the opportunity. The fifth Obscura Painting is mine already. And then…" his diabolical laughter filled the room and into the hallway beyond where Gunderson joined the woman.

"Careful. I know who he is too." He advised her.

"Then why have _you _kept your mouth shut." She retorted, her rhetorical question ending the conversation as she withdrew her desert eagle.

He walked out of the airlock cautiously, knowing full well the dangers that lurked within the shady corridors of the Strahov. _I hope to God there are no more crazies running around._ Still, he defiantly rested his hand at his side, counting on his reflexes to guide it to his Boran X if the situation required it.

He walked down the eerily empty halls of the Strahov. He was thankful that there were no guards initially, but as he walked down the labyrinth-like, tiled corridors he found himself wishing for an enemy so that he could use the corpse as a marker. The sickly green and white tiles were no where near as glamorous as those found in the biodome, but even the lack of gore and grime that graced the walls of the sanitarium has at least degraded the sanitarium so much he was not moved by it; here he could have sworn he walked in circles around a modern hospital or poorly decorated office building. _Lacks a woman's touch._

Finally, after what seemed like an extraordinary amount of time, he came upon the door that, if the engraving and map of the Strahov were correct, should put him on a direct path to Eckhardt's lab, and the final shard.

He was about to throw the door open with his telekinesis when he thought better of it. _No need to face whatever's behind that door unprepared_. _I guess I'm a little hesitant to trust her, too. _He rapidly threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure he was alone before thrusting his vision forward, guided by his farsight abilities. He saw nothing behind the door except a much darker corridor, and so, satisfied, he instructed his vision to return to him. It was only after it approached his body that, when seeing his determined and distracted form, he noticed the dark figures rushing towards his body from down the corridor.

His vision snapped back, and as he braced himself from the impact he also managed to turn to approach the figures and reach for his gun.

The click of a safety clicking off from the other end of the Desert Eagle barrel which squared between his eyes froze his actions.

He looked beyond the gun to the half smiling form of a fair-haired woman, her light brown hair wavy and collected over one shoulder, long, side swept fringe drawing attention to her steely gray eyes, which sat atop a slender nose and full lips that seemed vaguely familiar as they curled into a half smile.

He probably could have taken her, wrestled the gun from her hand and pointed his own at her before she could recover, but the Agency guards that stood behind her, their Mag Vegas also pointed at him, discouraged him.

He returned his gaze to the woman, who seemed to mouth something to him before he felt the sharp contact of the cool metal against the side of his face, and darkness surrounded him.

A/N: wow, its been a while, hasn't it? well, i havent given up on this fic (although sometimes i wonder...) and should have another chapter up soon (hopefully things will get more involved!)

i promise i'll try to update more frequently!

as always, reviews, both good and bad, welcome and wanted!  
thanks!


	8. Arena

**Arena**

The harsh impact with the concrete floor of the arena jostled him awake. _Damn. So much for not getting caught, Trent._ He slowly stood up, pushing Lara, who offered him a hand, away. _Either she got caught too, or she got the painting…_he glanced up to see the painting in Eckhardt's hand. _Damn._

"Gunderson, release Boaz" _wasn't she the one from the biodome?_ He regained his full height, still clutching his arm, as a hangar door to his right opened, revealing a hideous creature. "This old Colleague of mine was once a human, before she displeased me."

Eckhardt began to move away from the platform, Gunderson by his side. He hastily withdrew his Boran X to target Eckhardt, but to no avail; the target was out of sight.

"Not you Muller, you Useless piece of Dross! You failed me too!"

He switched positions with Lara as the bumbling fat man fell from the platform. Both of them targeted him and watched as the creature 'Boaz' attacked. But he was distracted by another voice from the platform.

"And you." He heard Eckhardt say from an invisible location atop the platform.

"Don't you dare!" a familiar, breathy voice with an American accent rang out. _Her._

"You are not loyal to this organization, and are not fit to continue in this operation. Gunderson!"

He watched as the figure of a trim woman fell from the railing. He watched as her reflexes secured her a spot hanging from the railing by her hands before she let go, landing on her feet mere spaces in front of them. She shook her light brown hair from her face and revealed two steely gray eyes.

She looked up at them as she stood; he saw her expression clearly evident of her comprehension of the situation. In them she had two armed opponents, and flanking her opposite side was the creature. Suddenly her expression changed as her face grew hardened and serious, her arm removing a desert ranger from under her jacket, she never stopped looking at them as she cocked it, but seemed to shrug as she turned to face the creature, her gun targeted.

"Who the hell are you?" Lara asked the woman.

"Look. We don't have time for pleasantries." The woman called over her shoulder, "Now that Eckhardt has the last painting, he's going to retrieve the sanglyph and attempt to revive the sleeper. There isn't much time left." She looked at them over her shoulder, her gun never wavering. "One of you has to go and stop him. I'll need help bringing this bitch down."

"So you want one of us to stay with you? You have got to be kidding me."

"Honestly, she's going to kill you a lot faster than I can. _And_ I'm on your side!"

"She's right" he finally contributed.

"What? Are you mad?" Lara switched her gaze.

"No. Trust me, okay? Come on, I'll give you a boost" using his telekinesis, he pushed Lara so she reached the platform, not forgetting the ringing shots from the woman's desert ranger that provided effective cover.

"Kurtis, quick!"

"Here! Take these two!"

"These are your speciality Kurtis."

"Don't worry about Ugly Here, Go on! You're wasting time; _we_ can take care of her."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

He didn't even watch as Lara ran to follow Eckhardt. He'd turned back to the creature, moving to the woman's side, who'd not stopped firing at the beast.

"Aim for the head, and when she starts shooting, aim for the pods."

"Okay."

His Boran X matched her Desert Ranger in both ferocity and damage, and soon the creature was spewing an iridescent green substance. Only then did she break her rapid string of bullets.

"Quick, aim for the pods on the left." He did as instructed, moving closer to the creature to get a proper angle. He'd taken out the far one, and had moved to target the closer one, when the creature roared violently, turning to face and attack him before he had the opportunity to react. In mere seconds the creature, with her scythe like fangs, had lunged at him, the impact sending him rolling backwards, a deep gash across his stomach caused by the sharp appendage. He grunted with the impact, hastily retreating from the creature as he stood up, only to join the woman's bullets once again. The creature resorted to catapulting the green slime at them more rapidly this round, but before he could target the pod this time, the woman had hit it with her own bullets. The creature reared up, arching its back and convulsing several times before collapsing on the floor.

He dropped his gun.

"That-wasn't-so-hard" he said to the body that was once the creature, but intending it for no one in particular. He turned, anxious to get some questions out of the woman.

"Wait for it."

"Huh?" he turned as a large, dilapidated, bee like creature crawled out of the skeleton of the pod Boaz. "Oh gimme a break!" he exclaimed as he turned to train his gun on the new creature.

This creature fell much faster than the previous. After only a few rounds, the creature shuddered backwards before plummeting to the ground.

More wary of the creature's multiple lives, he walked over to its side with his gun still trained on it. Satisfied that it was dead, he turned to the woman.

"Now, who the hell are you?"

AN: its starting to get juicy! thanks to all my readers and reviewers (and please continue reviewing--especially if you want more!)

thanks!


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